A Rare and Precious Thing
by therapy chicken
Summary: Takes place one year after Rex "The Doctor" Lewis is brought into the MARS operation.


Rex removed his coat as he reached the ornately decorated office, the first place that he wasn't struck by the brutal cold, as in the corridors. Yet another stupid and entirely unnecessary precautionary shutdown in the name of safety called for the reduction of power from all non-essential systems. Keeping all employees of MARS from turning to solid ice was apparently deemed unessential at some point in the company's past. He could barely feel his eyes, as the steel nose bridge of his ventilator took far longer to warm up, as metal does, and thousands of its tiny icicles continuously tattooed the freezing temperatures deep into his skin. Perhaps he'd been called here purely to have a humbling walk through the cold. His fingers still stiff from the frigid halls, despite his gloves and the considerably warmer office, Rex managed to get his thick coat on the infernally small coat peg on the wall, withdrawing the wireless PDA he'd brought in case he was called to make a surprise report or presentation.

Not that McCullen was even here, again. Rex didn't have many reasons to make an appointment to see him, as McCullen would usually seek him out in his laboratory if he needed something, provided that he didn't call instead. The few times he had been summoned here in the year since he had been usurped into their operation had conditioned into him a complete lack of surprise at McCullen's absence.

Instead of sitting down Rex walked over to the grandiose display behind McCullen's desk, the various antique swords and hatches and shields. He reached out to touch the centrepiece of the collection, Destro's mask that had kept McCullen's ancestor imprisoned so many centuries ago. The French warlords that had clapped the hot iron around him had sought to degrade him, to mark him, but they had failed. Its impressive appearance and its protection had strengthened his already granite resolve, and had ingrained that power permanently into the McCullen legacy so that even the passing of four hundred years did not dilute or dim it. Picking the mask up, Rex was surprised at the weight, the immediate and forceful resistance it made against his hands. This was the embodiment of everything powerful, enticing, brutal, alluring, and treacherous about James McCullen.

"Doctor," Rex heard behind him. Xin-Yi, McCullen's assistant, peeked in the doorway. "He says you can go on in."

Rex was momentarily confused, putting down the mediaeval mask, as he wasn't sure how much more "in" he could get into McCullen's office. It didn't last long, as Xin-Yi stepped forward and entered a code on a key panel camouflaged on the wall. A door Rex had assumed to be a closet opened, and Xin-Yi disappeared with the briskest of waves. He had been carrying some sort of take-out coffee, and Rex briefly wondered from where he'd managed to obtain it, before stepping into the newly presented door.

Not a complete change from the dim lighting and wooden walls of his office, McCullen's suite was rather brightly lit with the same mahogany walls and contrasting white furnishings. Like the rest of the complex the room curled into spherical modules, the only flat wall the one that sliced the room in half, its large door leading to the room beyond.

"Ah, Doctor."

Rex gave a short, stiff bow of acknowledgment toward McCullen in that doorway. "Has there been a problem?"

"Mm? Oh, no." McCullen motioned him fluidly further into his suite, into where he stood by the bedside window. "I wanted to have a private discussion with you, away from your laboratory." As Rex entered, McCullen picked up a glass from his night table, smiling welcomingly. "An extraordinary feat to accomplish, wouldn't you agree, Doctor?"

Rex smirked, his curt laugh ending with a nodded jerk of his head. "There is still a lot of work to be done."

"There is, there is," McCullen agreed, with a smooth wave of his hand. "However, continuous working and stress and constant experiments are not the environment I would like for my brightest scientist."

His Bluetooth gadget seemingly unneeded, Rex put his hand behind his back. "You are too kind."

"There is no kindness in the truth, Doctor." McCullen poured himself a drink from the brandy bottle. "Shall I offer you some?"

Rex took further deliberate steps into the large and bright room, turning sharply to look out the large elliptical window at the eeriely lit schools of fish, "No."

"Very good," and he joined him in front of the window, his mood souring somewhat. "Those fish are dangerous. They might not look like much of a threat, but the little fish seek the warmth generated by our power sources and lights, the larger fish follow the little fish, and those blasted orcas follow the big fish. Two years ago one of those monochrome bastards nearly took out the entire communication tower. Didn't have proper surveillance for weeks."

"In the suburbs of south-east Asia the rats are treated as similarly lethal," Rex rasped. "They stalk into the settlements, searching for food. The rat snakes follow the rats in search of food, and the king cobra follows the rat snakes, hunting down its favourite meal."

"Though less likely to take down a communications array."

Rex shortly bowed his head. "Sufficiently."

"Do you ever watch them through the window? Some of them are quite beautiful."

Rex looked back at the fish disappearing from view. "Not really."

"Pity," McCullen set down his glass. "There are some truly remarkable sights down here."

"Not all of them outside the windows."

"Indeed that is true. Your progress is incredibly astounding, as is the effectiveness of your test subject. You have nothing less than my full praise, Doctor."

"Thank you," Rex said curtly. "Is that what you called me here for?"

"This isn't about business, at least not strictly. Not everything that occurs here is professional; after all so many people work and live here, including yourself." McCullen faced Rex, easing himself to half-sitting on the ledge beneath the large window. "Are you comfortable here?"

"I...suppose, yes. The conditions of my laboratory are all--"

"I don't ask of your laboratory," McCullen cut in, not at all impatient, "but about your happiness here. I never see you outside the research area. You needn't be glued to the microscope. It's certainly not demanded of your colleagues. Do you have everything you need?" McCullen stood up and slowly approached him, stopping just inside the invisible boundary of Rex's personal space, "Everything you want?" The volume of his voice dropped, "There needn't be secrets between us."

Cautiously, Rex paused, his eyes the only part of his black clad form not assuming a statue's rigidity. "There aren't," he replied. "And I can think of nothing."

"I don't think there are deliberate secrets, Doctor...Rex, if I might call you Rex. After all, there is no one else here. I appreciate that your conspicuous appearance might make it hard for you to leave, or even wander about the complex with something approaching welcome. It has been about a year since you've come here, you've been ambulatory for many months now, and you've not sought any form of companionship. You are not a cold man."

"I...I'm not personable," Rex replied shortly, turning his head sharply.

"On the contrary, it seems to me you are merely highly selective with whom you will consort, also an admirable trait. Forgive my prying, Doctor, but you appear lonely."

Rex considered. "I don't think I am."

"Never? Come now, Doctor, you only speak to those who seek you out, and even then only if you choose to. You are incredibly valuable to me, and I would be completely remiss to not ensure that your needs and desires were being met to the fullest. Are you perhaps shy? I could speak to someone for you."

Rex's nervous laugh sounded like a cough, hindered by mechanical airflow. "I am not fond of...any of the women here," he replied.

"I know." McCullen reached an arm around Rex's back and eased from his hand the Blackberry Rex had forgot he was holding. "I wouldn't expect you to be attracted to any of the women here."

Rex jolted to his full height. "I--"

McCullen pressed a finger against the metal above Rex's nose and lips, which was as effective as if he'd been actually touching them. "I said, there needn't be secrets." McCullen put his hands on either sides of Rex's head, gently easing away the complex assembly of metal and rubber from his face. He wasted none of the little time Rex could stay like this, kissing him.

Rex snapped a hand to McCullen's shoulder, instinctually for stability, almost surprised at how quickly the lack of oxygen delivered repeated and increasing blows to his system. He allowed McCullen's arms to snake around his sides, until his hands met as his back, pressing them closer. Rex accepted the invitation to lean into him, as he was shortly robbed of detailed sight. He ignored the pressure on his eyes, fighting to stay conscious, nearly losing before he stepped back and quickly replaced the ingeniously designed ventilator against his face.

He waited to regain his breath and adjusted his jet black hair stiffly before looking up sharply. It wasn't nearly as hard to meet McCullen's eyes as he'd thought it would be. "I can't--"

"I know," McCullen stepped forward again, pushing the high breasted jacket from Rex's shoulders, running his fingers along the velvet and neoprene-like material beneath it. He dropped the jacket on a chair, letting it slide from his fingers, Rex's gloves shortly joining it. McCullen took the newly-bared right hand, cautious as he massaged and manipulated the fragile skin between the network of scars. "Your hands have healed brilliantly, Doctor. Can you feel this?"

"Yes," Rex replied, watching intently each smooth motion of McCullen's fingers over his own. "I've gained sensation in most of the grafts."

"A splendid job," McCullen remarked on a low whisper as he bent slightly. He brought the hand to his mouth, running his tongue along and in between each finger. He was without means to gauge Rex's reactions--his breathing was mechanically steady from necessity, he did not move his hand, nor could he see Rex's eyes. He looked up smoothly, his fingers still resting around Rex's hand. Rex's eyes belied only the slightest hint that it affected him, a slight increase in the sharp blinking and the rapid glances from McCullen's hands to his face. McCullen smiled, keeping the hand near his lips. "It is a shame that you need to keep such beautifully restored hands continuously covered." He dropped Rex's hand gently, running his fingers along Rex's nearly form-fitting sleeve. "As with the rest of you."

"It is required and...a kindness."

"Really, Doctor," McCullen said, a playful drip in his voice. Stepping up to him again, McCullen rested his head softly on Rex's shoulder, feeling the chilled steel against his cheek as he spoke into Rex's concealed neck. "You have healed remarkably well, and the surgeons who sculpted you have raised such procedures to an art form." His hands roamed the garment over Rex's chest, searching for whatever so stealthily fastened it, but never hastening in their journey. McCullen smiled brightly, unseen, as he felt Rex's hand firmly slip under his jacket at his waist. "I should perhaps remove my own jacket, in the interests of fairness, mm?"

"Yes," Rex replied, flicking away hair that had fallen only partly onto his face, with forceful irritation.

McCullen took the slightest step back from his very slightly disrobed quarry. Fluidly, he slipped his jacket from his shoulders and onto the same nearby chair as the others. Noting that Rex's eyes were focused with the most rapt attention, he continued, dexterously unpinning his tie's fasten, then its knot, slipping the cord of fabric from around his neck. Rex tilted his head, but his eyes stayed clearly focused, and McCullen popped each waistcoat button with its appropriate pause, sliding it too from his shoulders and on to the chair. "Would you like to continue, perhaps," as he spread his hands in welcome.

Rex stepped forward immediately, his impulse almost visible, briskly unfastening the buttons of McCullen's shirt. Greedily, he pushed it open, running his hands inside it, pressing his temple and forehead against McCullen's hair. Only seconds later he pulled back enough to once again unobstruct his face, making an attempt to nearly swallow McCullen's whole mouth as his motion to kiss him was nearly overrun by his brain's annoyed request for continued oxygen. Rex squeezed him tightly, running his tongue along McCullen's lips, taking huge yet still insufficient gulps of air in between each press of their mouths. He had to stop yet again, pushing the ventilator mask to his face and the pressure against his chest eased.

McCullen only half watched Rex refasten the black metal, taking the moment to remove his rings and place them in the night table drawer. "Are you all right, Doctor?"

"Yes," Rex replied with a slight growl. "It's irritating," he said with narrowed eyes.

"I can't imagine how much that must be," McCullen replied, pulling his shirt out of his trousers. "Perhaps trite, but if there is anything I can do to ease your comfort, Rex, you need only say."

Rex tilted his head oddly, hindered by the collar, and reached out as though he were about to brush away a fleck of lint. Somewhat roughly, he pushed the shirt off of McCullen's shoulders, keeping the same rigid bend to his arm. McCullen moved only enough to allow the shirt to fall, catching it at the last moment to continue the neat and growing pile of clothes on the chair.

With arched fingertips Rex pressed his fingers against McCullen's chest, his nails occasionally allowed to bite. He pushed his fingers against the skin, watching its movements, studying each of McCullen's reactions, pushing harder. Rex raked his short nails over McCullen's arms, then his back, still facing him and stopping only to force his breathing back into the regular cycles. Innocuously, McCullen slipped a hand around Rex, feeling around the back of his neck until he found the hidden plastic zipper, easing it open.

Rex stilled as he felt the movement, threatening to divest him. He remained motionless, his head curled down, looking just past McCullen to the floor. There was something daring in his eyes, McCullen noted, something challenging him to continue in his endeavour. He took the contest, pushing the zipper until it reached its end and popped open. Rex's head did not move, but his eyes closed a visible fraction. With due care, McCullen pulled the bizarrely seamless garment from his under the curved metal frame of his collar, his shoulders, his arms, careful not to let it dig into newly healed flesh. Jointedly pliant, Rex moved his arms away from McCullen to aid the shirt's removal.

Once it was on the chair, McCullen pointedly looked over Rex, who slowly raised his head. McCullen continued his observations with his hands, touching the unnaturally smooth and deathly pale skin covering an overwhelming percentage of Rex's bared torso. Interspersed were small areas of pinkish orange flesh, surrounded by lightening scars, and the large expanses of tissue white. The scars and patterns belied how Rex had fallen to the ground, struck by an explosion of glass and fire, curled up and screaming, as his clothes had burned. Instead of the warmth of fire that McCullen oddly expected, the skin was cool to the touch, with an eerie glide under his careful fingertips. "Shall I turn up the heater, perhaps, Doctor?"

"I--" Rex stopped, his hands shaking slightly in an odd shiver. "Yes," he finally decided. McCullen left shortly to adjust the environmental settings for his room. He almost couldn't stop himself from jumping as his eyes met Rex's, who was watching him with a hawk's rapt concentration. McCullen brushed it off, walking smoothly back to Rex, pulling him closer to his bed. He nuzzled his face back into Rex's neck, sucking on his collarbone, feeling the press of vinyl against his cheek and its regular, slight expansion and release. He felt Rex's arms slip around him and squeeze him closer, hearing something that might have been a moan. Running his tongue along the sharply raised bones along Rex's shoulder, McCullen pushed their hips together. He was rewarded with something that was definitely a moan, and he slipped his fingers to Rex's trousers, making quick work of the belt and zipper. Without ceremony he slipped his hand inside them, startling Rex. The moan became a hiss, and Rex's exploring hands on his back became pincers, holding him as tightly as they could manage. With his other hand McCullen gave Rex's pants a little shove that let them fall to the floor, revealing a garment similar to his shirt. It was form-fitting, black, and smooth, and also apparently seam and fasten deprived. McCullen felt Rex's head loll toward his own, Rex's long black hair tickling McCullen's shoulders and neck.

"All right, Doctor," McCullen said crisply, pulling his hand from Rex's pants, taking hold of his shoulders. He hooked one of Rex's legs and forced him to pivot, and he pushed Rex onto his bed. "Here we are," and McCullen joined him, climbing over him. He removed and kicked off his own trousers as he did so, followed rapidly by his underthings and shoes, sending them only in the general direction of the chair that held the majority of their shed clothing. Rex said nothing, instead he hesitantly relaxed, kicking off his short boots, squirming into a more accessible position. Feeling disconcerted looking into Rex's eyes, not for the first time, McCullen noted an arrogant submission in his expression. He'd take that. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of Rex's pants, pushing them down his hips.

"No," Rex said firmly.

"Doctor, I hardly--"

"No," Rex repeated, in his raspy growl that left no room for argument.

"All right, all right," McCullen acquiesced, instead moving to the concealed fly of the garment, opening that further instead. This was met with the opposite of protest, and Rex groaned as he pushed his head into the pillows. McCullen looked shortly down at what he was doing, manipulating the loose skin. Being uncircumcised had saved Rex further torment, as the scars and evidence of burns ran even there, the foreskin having prevented more intimate injuries, at some expense to itself. McCullen winced, not for the first time when looking at him, keeping the pity from colouring his expression. He proceeded cautiously, mindful of injuries in various stages of healing. The strokes did not seem to hurt Rex, quite the opposite, giving McCullen license to continue with more vigour. He used his knees to push Rex's legs apart, lowering himself until he could hold both of their cocks in one hand.

Immediately, as if a programmed robot, Rex hooked his legs around McCullen's waist, squeezing them and interlocking his ankles. Nearly stumbling, McCullen's hand reflexively shot down to the bed, to handle the increased weight. Rex didn't wait, hooking his arms similarly around him, pulling himself up from the bed. Furiously he ground their hips together, his chest rising deeply and irregularly as he fought an uphill battle to keep his breathing steady. He pushed his head crookedly against McCullen's neck, roughly pushing into him. His thrusts were disjointed, suffering from the pauses he needed to breathe as the snaps and hisses of the ventilator valves reminded him angrily.

"Doctor," McCullen whispered, unsure himself if it was an address. "Doctor," he repeated, though he had nothing else to add. There was an odd frustration to his position, something approaching blinding ecstasy caused his hips and legs to push and grind against Rex, but all that accomplished was a few minor episodes of nearly knocking Rex from his precarious grip. Instead he licked his lips and nearly swallowed his own tongue, forcing himself to remain still, save for pushing his nose against Rex's forehead. He kissed him there, feeling Rex's wrists dig into his neck and back, and his powerful mechanised respirations against his ear, interspersed as they were by his gasps. Despite his lack of direct participation, Rex's enthusiasm and efforts were brilliant, and his arms shook as he reached the breaking point. "Rex," he breathed, then bit his lip, finishing.

Rex only subconsciously noticed. With his head bent as far back as he could manage and his nails digging into flesh, Rex curled his toes, unable to stop the panting that was choking him. His eyes shut until they hurt, forced by the violent contractions of his limbs and chest. Rex couldn't think or see, and he didn't care. Everything hurt beautifully. He couldn't feel how tightly he still had to be clamping, even his groin was numbed to sensation despite the electricity jolting from its centre. He yelled, or he screamed, no actual words, reaching the height of all sensation. Only a second later his limbs released their hold, though he did not recall ordering such an operation. Rex fell the short distance to the bed, still gasping for air.

McCullen lowered himself slightly, kissing Rex's forehead. Using his thumb he brushed away the moisture under Rex's eye, finding the complete lack of sweat on Rex's features eerie. Suddenly Rex spasmed, startling McCullen out of his contemplation, a loud, angry clap issuing from the machine in front of Rex's face. "Are you all right?" McCullen asked, backing up to give him more space.

Rex nodded his head, though very slowly, and his eyes blinked in just as slow succession. His head lolled to the side, his chest expanding hugely with heavy breath. The clapping sound resumed, infrequently.

"Should I call someone?"

Shaking his head, Rex put a hand on his chest, just below his neck, emphasizing the rhythm.

Understanding, McCullen put his hand just a little lower, gently pushing and rising with that rhythm. "Shh," he whispered, leaning closer.

Shortly the clapping and popping ceased, and Rex opened his eyes. The silence felt excruciating but he could think of nothing with which to break it, despite the welcoming, contented smile McCullen gave him in reception. Rather he stared, realising that he was clenching his jaw.

McCullen moved first, sitting on the edge of the bed to tidy the clothes he'd quickly shucked off. He stood shortly and fetched himself something to put on. Hearing rustling from Rex's direction, he looked to see his companion searching through the clothes for his own, somewhat hurriedly. "Don't bother with those," he pulled out a second robe. "You can sleep here this evening."

"All right," Rex rasped, sitting up cross-legged on the bed, looking at his bare feet.

"Here," and McCullen handed it to him. "Do you need anything else?"

"No." Rex slipped the robe over his shoulders, studying McCullen. "James."

"The lavatory is just over there," he continued simply, no outward reaction to the use of his Christian name. "Oh six, one six, oh nine."

"What?"

"The code for the office door," McCullen said, sitting closer to Rex. "Very few people know it, as I highly value privacy, not unlike yourself. You have an open invitation to come here whenever you wish." He brushed his fingers lightly against Rex's forehead, watching Rex's eyes snap shut. "You are a rare and precious thing, Rex," he murmured with clarity. "Such a rare and a precious thing."

Rex craned his head down a fraction, his hair falling stiffly around his eyes. "I hope I've...given you everything you need," he said, with catches in between the words.

McCullen smiled. "Absolutely everything."


End file.
